Dr Strange's Love: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Mom
by seriousish
Summary: Dr. Strange teaching his apprentice sex magic goes horribly… right. Strange/Clea/Umar. Betaed by Gnome man.


Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, spoke in a remarkably clear, focused voice. "Feel your power flow and ebb. Let it rise and fill you, but always be prepared to put a stopper on it. Be aware of how much energy you draw into yourself—for now, allow it to build."

Clea, his disciple and student, listened to his words intently. "Yes… it's building nicely," she moaned, barely able to stop herself from biting her lower lip. Her body was speeding now to take Strange's instruction most acceptably, driving up and down to kiss his throbbing length both softly and deeply.

As a master of the mystic arts, sex magick was just one of the many expressions of Dr. Strange's power. He could ill afford to let twentieth-century Puritanism keep him from exercising it, or from instructing the lovely Clea in its usage. In fact, in the masonic privacy of his Sanctum Sanctorum, the more pressing concern was in giving sex magick only its due lecture; not putting excessive attention on it.

"It's good, Stephen… so good." Clea was a very good student. Most eager to learn.

Atop the silk-sheeted bed whose coverings were themselves woven with occult runes against the demon Nightmare and others who might take advantage of the occupant's sleep, Strange leaned down upon his lover, pressing his body's meager weight upon her sex. He did not return Clea's verbal affection; the proper time had come in the rite to chant some of the Maundering Melodies of Mordun.

Though her white-tressed head rolled from side to side, he stroked his fingers across her sweaty face to guide her attention back to him—clearly and slowly he enunciated the proper cantrips, his face set and stern. Clea stared up at him, marking the upswing of his soft words with each thrust into and withdrawal from her gripping passage. As she tried to keep careful mental note of each and every pronunciation, her hands slithered down his naked back to the muscles of his driving ass… at another hearty thrust, she gripped him tightly, squeezing as though she could force her own orgasm out from somewhere in his wiry body.

"Fuck me, Stephen!" she demanded hotly, her magenta-tipped fingernails in Strange's skin now jarring even his well-honed discipline. With the strength of the Faltine, her arms drew him down to crush her breasts under the weight of his chest, making him delightedly aware of the hotness of her nipples rubbing through his chest hair. "Oh, complete my pleasure! Nothing in any realm I have journeyed to has ever fulfilled me as does this!"

But Strange held himself painstakingly aloft from Clea, completing the present incantation with a guttural twist to his words before he gave in, indulging her, kissing her on a mouth that was waiting eagerly for his tongue. He found the sweet, secret honeycomb between her lips; Clea lashing her own tongue against his as if trying to repel an invader. When he broke the kiss off, she was still enthralled in it, and went wild upon his distinguished face—licking it, kissing it, trying to draw him into another passionate soul-kiss.

Cresting one hand to her brow and splaying the other over her sternum, Strange held Clea in place as he continued to drive himself into her. "You must pay attention, Clea—do not lost yourself in the specifics of this ritual. Concentrate on the desired outcome. Mind the energies you conjure."

"Yes, Stephen, you're right…" Clea nodded desperately, then she arched up with her breasts, bringing the stiffness of her lavender-tipped nipples into the light. "Suck them, please—I'll come if you suck them…!"

Strange let little of his frustration translate to the motions he made into Clea; he could tell this would be a decidedly unproductive session. All he could do now was conclude the ritual to the patron-god Mordun's satisfaction and hope Clea had enjoyed herself.

Though he had to admit, he certainly had himself.

Ignoring her hands clawing in his hair, trying to force him to her perky bosom, he hunched down on her jerking body, rushing through the proper rites as Clea raised her legs like cannons preparing to fire. To either side of him they jerked around helplessly, like a puppet being mangled by his thoughtless usage. Strange ignored their well-muscled smoothness, only allowing himself to think of the minor negative energy and poltergeist activity he hoped to dispel from Columbus Circle with this ceremony.

Finishing the incantation with a gentle touch to either of Clea's heaving breasts, her left ear, and her right shoulder, the doctor allowed himself the pleasure of Clea's visage. He looked down at her, allowing his baser, bodily instincts to enjoy the sight of her small firm breasts, her pointed nipples, her desperate words of succor—

"Fuck me!" she moaned, as if chanting herself for the magic of bodily pleasure. Her hips worked up and down, trying to swallow the unrelenting hardness of his driving prick. "I'm going to come—I need to come! Oh, Stephen, Stephen—"

So it was when the firm but respectful knock of Dr. Strange's faithful manservant, Wong, sounded upon the chamber door. With a grunt, Strange reached out with a cursory spell and allowed the sounding hole to be unlocked. Wong would not intercede without good reason, though there was some business Strange attended to in his inner sanctum that could brook no interruption. But with the tiny portal unlocked, Wong was free to open it and send his voice into his master's chambers.

"Beg pardon for my discourteous intrusion, master," he began, though Strange sensed his eyes rolling at the well-worn custom after their years of friendship. "But an urgent matter has been brought to our door. The vigilante Spider-Man has apparently—'sold his marriage to the Devil'." Wong spoke the phrase with clear recitation of another's words—a clear rebuke to the foolishness of _some people. _"I suspect a hasty resolution is needed."

Strange nodded; though his body still swayed with Clea's, his mind—as it would be in a voyage of his astral form—was already far away, comparing this new information against the library of knowledge enclosed within his mind. "You were right to bring this to me, Wong. I will be along presently."

"As you say, master," Wong replied courteously, closing the portal once more.

With no further thought, Strange detached from Clea—his cloak of levitation flying from where it was hung to cover him as similar spells cleaned the sweat from his body and clad him in the familiar vestments of his post. In seconds, only Clea was left as proof of his prior activities—lying upon the room's simple platform bed, her body still colored with rushing blood and the violence of their lovemaking, cunt a vivid pink and red, white hair rebellious from the nape of her neck to her sweaty brow.

"What-? Stephen, you—you can't just leave me like this!"

Strange was quick to examine himself in a nearby mirror, both to maintain his appearance and to check his aura for any sign of displeasure from Mordun. "Forgive me, my dear. An interference with the spider-totem is of the utmost importance. I can only pray to the Lords of Vishanti that its discovery leaves adequate time for whatever disaster it portends to be averted."

"What of the disaster in my cunt!?" Clea demanded, jumping to her feet in a most enticing display for all her anger. "I was just about to—you were so—_Stephen!"_

"As I said, I am truly sorry, but the Twelfth Melody of Mordun was only brought to a stopping point, not completed. With ample time, we could've continued through the remaining three culminations—" And Clea's body shuddered in anticipation at the thought. "But at the present, I lack the proper time. You must be patient, Clea—another quality required of a great sorceress."

"Can't you just finger me or something?"

"I fear not, dear Clea. If you had your culmination outside the ritual, Mordun would withdraw his power from this sphere for a time, in his offense. The barriers that separate this dimension from those yonder would be ever more weakened. No, Clea—meditate on my teachings. Allow the mystical powers that have accumulated in your body to dissipate. When I return from my dealings with this most unwise of arachnids, I will tend to your desires." He smiled serenely. "And it will be done only in honor of you, my love."

With that, he was off, his scarlet cloak billowing around his slender frame as the door parted to allow him exit. Clea was left alone, her body still awash with pleasure.

She tried to do as her paramour had said, committing the instruction she had received to memory, but the combination of her unfulfilled passion and the lingering review of their lovemaking made her feel sullen and resentful. And horny. Her body felt like it was on fire, her breasts swollen to the point of bursting, her nipples too raw to feel the clutch of clothes.

Out of frustration with her paramour, she did not long heed his words. A Faltine born and raised in magick, a blood relative of Dormammu and Umar, _she _had come of age in the Dark Dimension. While in Stephen's native Earth, magic was considered no more than a parlor trick by most! She could complete _any _ritual on her own; satisfy herself and give no offense to Mordun. After all… how could he not enjoy the show?

She pressed her hands into her lap, wishing to do anything but suffer her raging desire. Clea did not wish even to think of Strange in that moment. Instead, she thought of a woman. The easiest reference point was herself—she imagined a duplicate of her own young body. Youthful, but far from undeveloped—simply small and lithe, her mystical power leaving her physicality that of an antique Dresden doll. Her body, pale and pink, sported breasts that were high and firm, with blossoming nipples of delightful lavender. She was told this was unusual on Earth. Her belly was soft, as were her flanks, but she was not totally without muscle. Her arms were wiry, her legs long and supple with elegantly powerful calves and thighs that had been known to pleasingly hold a man. And, unusually, both her brief hairdo and the downy patch of fur between her legs were of a lunar white.

So Clea imagined a woman who was her and not her, a woman of a slightly more toned body and darker hair. An older woman, with a less… innocent look. Smoldering eyes under midnight hair—tight, revealing clothes, a dress of skintight green—a woman who enjoyed being seen, even with the crude glances of Earth. One who directed her slender form around in fluid poses and postures meant to draw attention to herself. Yes… yes, she would have a body that spoke of the heat boiling within it, her breasts swelling under her dress, no bigger than Clea's, but well-shaped, and still as firm and proud.

Clea rolled over on the bed, her hands locked over her groin, the flow of her chi bringing her more pleasure than her fingers ever could. It was with a start that she realized she had visualized Umar of the Dark Dimension, sister of Dread Dormammu himself. Though Fate had rendered them enemies, for Umar had sworn to destroy Dr. Strange, she was still Clea's mother—and a very beautiful woman. And the taboos of the Dark Dimension were not those of Earth.

Clea imagined her mother stroking her soft white hair as she had done when she was a child—and caressing her pale body as she had done initiating Clea into the ways of womanhood. She recalled how they had kissed, an unbroken contact that demanded their darting tongues melt together. Her body responded to the imagined feel of Umar kissing lower, lower, until Clea's thighs parted as if for a lover who was really there.

Hardly aware of her own responses, Clea clawed at her burning thighs until her fingers reached into her pussy. She had not masturbated since her recent exile to the Realm Unknown, but now her incestuous imaginings inflamed her without end. Her legs spread wide as the fingers of one hand rubbed at her clitoris, the fingers of the other stroking her sex as firmly as Dr. Strange had before.

"Mother, that feels so good!" she muttered, as though talking in her sleep. It was as if the tongue she imagined slithering into her pussy was really there. "Keep going! I'll come in your mouth if only you keep going!"

But even in Clea's fantasies, Umar was not so easily commanded. The woman departed from her daughter's body, crouched over the prone sorceress, drawing the skirt of her dress aside to reveal the smoothly shorn juncture of her thighs. In the next moment, Umar had laid down atop her with her cunt demandingly presented to Clea's face. Clea could almost smell its heavenly perfume for real!

All of Clea's mind was turned to the imagining of Umar; never in her life had she been so aroused, not even with Stephen Strange. Her hands blurred upon her groin, and though she knew she should slow them, be more gentle with her sex's delicate makings, she found herself unable to control her rising passion.

Clea recalled the taste of her mother's pussy, a drug so powerful that one sample rendered her a craven addict. "Mmmm," Umar moaned in pleased response. Even the great baroness of the Dark Dimension willing to reveal her appreciation for such homage. "It is good to know you love my sex much as I love yours! Such daughterly devotion deserves reward!"

And, bearing down on Clea's face, angling still more of Clea's tongue inside her sex, she climaxed in liquid satisfaction. Clea gulped down her mother's 'reward' as if her life depended on this meal being fully consumed. And as she sucked, she felt Umar's tongue make its long-awaited return to her sex.

Seeking to truly have the pleasure her fevered imagination told her she was experiencing, Clea pinched hard at her swollen clit. It hurt, but the pain was delicious, driving her naked ass in wide, lewd circles against the fingers plunging furiously into her cunt.

Clea thought she would come any moment, just from thinking of Umar's sinister tongue in her sex and her sinful taste in Clea's mouth. But then she felt that long tongue lapping, not at her pussy, but lower. Clea's asscheeks were spread, her hole invaded by a tongue as wicked and winding as a snake.

At that moment, Dr. Strange, Wong, and the Ancient One himself could have walked in and Clea wouldn't have cared. The only thing she gave a damn about was how delicious her oncoming climax would be. Her hands circled and thrust, pulled wildly to her groin as she thrashed about on the bed, every other part of her body given over to the pleasure she was feeling. Her ecstasy was so advanced, it felt like not just her sex, but her entire body would explode.

And when it did, at the height of her pleasure, Clea shouted out unaware, "Fuck me, Mother, _fuck me!"_

And worlds away, Umar moved to do exactly that.

* * *

The burst of mystical energy, confined as it was to the depths of the Sanctum, nonetheless drew Strange's attention away from his study of Peter Parker's case. Sighing in frustration, he dismissed the relevant documents and memories. Apparently, Parker had recently switched souls with none other than Doctor Octopus. Strange was most eager to discover how he had not been able to sense such a thing.

But that burst of eldritch power... Some god whispered to him of its urgency.

Rushing back to Clea, he found her lying on her back upon the floor, the room in disarray around her. A quick check with his astral senses showed nothing spiritually amiss, and Clea was already getting to her feet. He resisted the urge to summon a set of clothes for her; her continued nudity didn't speak well of her discipline.

"Are you hurt, Clea?"

"No… no, Stephen. I am well." Her eyes sparkled as she walked up to him, hips rolling, errant shoots of her hair catching the light with damp sweat. She embraced him quickly, and he felt the fervor of her breasts through his tunic. "Oh, Stephen, don't deny me any longer! Make love to me! I'm yours; why won't you be mine?"

Cupping her shoulders in his hands, he gently pushed her aside. "As I told you, Clea, there are more pressing matters to attend to. I am Sorcerer Supreme—"

"And yet you can't fuck the woman who loves you? All that power and you can't allow yourself five minutes to satisfy me?" Hugging him tighter, she lifted her hips, rolling her sex against his crotch. Inside his trousers, his cock pulsed with life.

Strange was speechless. Clea pushed at him. He could only resist so much without falling over or pushing back. And so it was he was sat down atop a nearby desk, his long legs swinging off the side. Bulge growing at his groin. Clea pressed herself to him. Kissed him once. Lowered herself along his body, stroking her nipples over the soft wool of his tunic, then his trousers.

She placed her hands on his knees. She pushed them apart. Gave a little kiss to that growing, faithful bulge. It jerked wildly at the touch. She smiled. A little stimulation and the master of the mystic arts was at her service. Without further ado, she unveiled him.

Strange looked down at her in complete bewilderment as her lips opened to encompass his straining cockhead. This was so unlike her. Her tongue moved in rough circles, lashing him wickedly forward. He gasped for air. She thought he sounded like a dying animal; sucked harder.

The first few inches of him were in her mouth now. Her teeth scored the collar of his prick, but the fierce red marks she left behind put him in no pain. The blood that rushed furiously into his cock only made the feeling of pleasure more immense. Now she got down to business, engulfing another inch of him with each bob of her shuddering head, her tongue sanding the underside of his cock. His cock bucked into the back of her throat, each vibration echoing his racing heartbeat.

And as Clea continued to let his cock strain into her throat, a powerful voice sounded in Strange's mind. _Enjoying yourself, Doctor?_

His gaze shot up from the spectacular sight of Clea devouring his prick to see the astral form of Umar standing across from him, her wavy visage watching him with a cruel eye. She was harmless here in his inner sanctum, but the insolence of her presence put him in a mood almost foul enough to end Clea's blissful attention. "Umar! Why do you disturb me here? Haven't you caused enough pain in this sphere for one lifetime?"

Still his manhood vanished into Clea's pale pink lips, her tongue swirling around him like he was caught in a tornado. Umar watched with some amusement. _Perhaps I just enjoy the sight of my darling daughter at play._

Once more, Strange looked down at his lover's nude body, finding her now moving her hands back and forth on his spread thighs. She went to unfasten his belt. Distantly, Strange thought of how curious it was that he didn't mind Umar seeing him in such a state, and that he felt no urge to hide their intimacy from Umar. "I see now—misused tantric energy have allowed you some access to this plane. I will have to chide Clea—" With his belt off and his trousers similarly removed, Clea's nimble fingers now found his testes. "Later! Still, I will not allow you to leave this Sanctum and wreak any of the havoc you're so fond of."

_Oh, do you see? _Umar's telepathy was rich with sarcasm. _Take another look, my good doctor!_

Summoning the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto, even as his cock jumped to the press of Clea's tongue atop his tip, Strange realized his mistake. He had forgotten to check for the Illusions of Ikkon—the first thing any wizard should do, making sure that the reality they sought to manipulate is as presented to them! With a quick spell, it was undone, and now he saw the truth. It was not Clea at all kneeling before him, but Umar herself!

_Yes, 'my love'. It's no wonder you didn't recognize the change. I did teach Clea all she knows. And now that her foolish mistake has allowed me into your sweet little world, I will enjoy teaching her still more—and you as well, doctor. I should think a man of your—caliber—will do ample service as breeding stock._

"Never!" Strange cried. "By the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth, you will be stopped!" He moved to cast any number of mystical countermeasures, but found his hands did not form the proper gestures. Instead, they locked into Umar's black hair, crushing her head to his groin even as he slammed his hips forward. He was now pounding violently into her mouth, his entire body a blur of overwhelming pleasure.

_Your lust undoes you, doctor, just as it did my sweet child. Already I have cast upon you all the spells I'll ever need to replace all that boring heroism with brimming, boiling _need. _So please, fuck away, doctor—fuck me hard. I'll end up on top._

Strange called out in dismay, though his jaw grew slack with addled pleasure. Though he fought the sensations rippling from his loins, that only delayed the inevitable—giving his ecstasy time to linger.

Similarly, Umar stroked his rod with her very gullet, matching him blow for blow. His body tensed and tightened as if in combat, and she knew he was desperately fighting against his oncoming climax. This only made her hungrier. Digging her fingers into his ass, she took his cock still deeper inside her. She would prove herself his master, just as she had with Clea.

_Come, damn you! There's no point in resisting! I've already won! Give me your seed! _

Sweat ran down Strange's brow and burned into his eyes, but though his every muscle screwed inward, he did not yield to the pleasure Umar breathed into him. "Though we stay locked in coitus—till the end of time—I will not surrender to you!"

_Admirable staying power, doctor. Perhaps I'd best send for reinforcements._

Then Strange heard the soft patter of bare feet on the wooden floor—once more he was treated to the naked glory of Clea as she came to him, eyes blank with Umar's control. Moving robotically, she knelt down beside her mother, who put an arm around her shoulders.

_Come now, doctor—if you won't grant your mother-in-law her desire, surely your student and lover is deserving!_

Clea looked up at him, face contorting with lust. "Please, Stephen—please come for us. Come all over us. We need it!"

_Would you prefer her over me—the fresh meat over the old? Have her, then. It makes no difference. Fuck her mouth with your cock until you come. She wants it, doctor. She wants it on her tongue and down her throat and in her belly._

And as Umar worked herself off Strange's cock, Clea opened her mouth so wide that he could see her throat. Helplessly, he offered his saliva-slick cock to his lover and she took it with ease, all the way down until her nose was buried in his pubic hair. The warm delight was like a balm. His hips pumped slowly, growing used to the feel of his liquid burial, but he picked up speed rapidly. Soon, he was giving Clea's mouth every bit the fucking her mother had received. Clea gave a begging groan, her throat constricting tight around what he gave her.

For the first time, Umar physically spoke—her voice cultured, decadently elegant, and effortlessly sexual. "Yes… fuck her throat, doctor—she so loves the feel of your cock between her lips. As did I. It's so powerful…"

Strange stopped thrusting—overcome. Just as his balls clenched, Clea pulled herself free to receive his first gift upon her lips, a splatter so thick that it blanketed her breasts as well.

Umar caught the next blast in her mouth, enjoying the pungent, slippery experience of his cum sliding down her throat. She laughed, her mouth open for more as Clea watched her lover shoot into and onto her mother. At Umar's command, Clea even jerked Strange off, adding to his ejaculation as he filled Umar's mouth with come. She did not swallow, allowing it instead to overflow from her lips and spill down her chest. With her free hand, Clea spread it like hot oil over Umar's breasts.

Umar's soundless laughter deepened.

_A spell of endless ejaculation, doctor—all your power and potency, now translated into orgasm. When your balls are empty, your strength will be as well. Praise me for the mercy I have shown in not devising a more painful end for you. Instead, accept this reward for what pleasure you have brought my little family._

Umar looked over at Clea, who embraced her now, lowering her head to Umar's cum-white cleavage. A fresh froth of cum rained from Strange's cock, bathing the both of them in ejaculate. And Clea happy to lick it off her darling mother, then offer it up to Umar in the fitting vessel of her mouth.

It would be many hours yet before Strange's power was exhausted, and Umar planned to enjoy them—down to the last drop.

* * *

Thank the Eternal Vishanti that when Wong realized the situation, he was wise enough not to attempt a foolhardy rescue on his own. Instead, he fled the Sanctum Sanctorum, activating the proper runes as he went to seal it off from the outside world—trapping Umar's invasion within. Now, though his heart was heavy, he had given Earth's other mystical guardians a little time to marshal and counter the threat.

Thus, Strange was left in the humbling position of awaiting rescue with his power depleted to its very dregs. Not only did this chafe at his sense of pride, but he had no wish to allow Umar any opportunity to shed blood. She was his to deal with, and though drained of sensation and helpless, his corporeal body bound and imprisoned along with Clea, his mind was free to concentrate. To plan revenge and justice, and a fitting 'thanks' for the hours he had just spent in almost torturous pleasure.

"I'm so sorry, Stephen," Clea muttered beside him, her voice drained of emotion. "This is all my fault."

"There's nothing to be sorry for yet," he told her. "There's still hope. It may yet be that this will be no more than a particularly effective object lesson in your education."

"But how? Umar won't rest until she's escaped into your world, bringing to it the same chaos with which she plagued the Dark Dimension!"

Strange nodded grimly. "As I said, there is hope. I've often pondered how the perversity of evil is as much a prison as the strictures of good. I suspect Umar will choose a particularly sadistic way to make her escape—she will use you, my dear. When she goes, do not resist her. If I'm right, that will be our only chance to stop her."

* * *

In short order, Umar was ready for them. The door was opened for her by a brute of a man—one of the humanoid inhabitants of her home realm, a seven-foot-tall behemoth bristling with muscles, his bald head only moving to either gaze threateningly at Strange or ogle Clea's nudity.

"Your wards are impressive, sorcerer," Umar complimented, checking his restraints just to be on the safe side. "I can't break free of them through brute force alone. It took all my ability to fashion even a cramped passageway for Bruton here, who is used to such rough travel. I certainly won't be ferried back and forth in such a manner. I think a spell is called for."

Strange merely gazed at her impassively, refusing to give her anymore satisfaction.

"There are so many ways to break a ward—but I think some sex magic would be most fun. Clea, myself, and faithful Bruton. And as much as Clea will relish all the pleasure I force into her, so will I enjoy conquering your pathetic world. And you'll watch both happen right in front of you, unable to lift a finger against it!" Her eyes screamed in a moment of barbaric cruelty, before she turned to Clea with a bemused look and a cloying smirk. "But if my daughter is a good little girl and obeys her mother, perhaps I'll leave her boyfriend alive. A kind of… trophy."

Clea looked desperately to Strange. He nodded tightly, his eyes reminding her of his earlier words.

Now Clea raised her eyes to Bruton, parting her wet pink lips in the beginnings of invitation. She stopped covering herself with her arms, letting the giant see her high, proud breasts. He couldn't resist clamping his hands on the sweet scoops of flesh, squeezing them hard as he licked his lips in excitement.

"Oh, do you want to fuck her?" Umar asked, as if in surprise.

Bruton nodded, his eyes burning with lust.

Umar clapped her hands. "How wonderful! Because I know she wants to feel a big cock stuffed in her pussy." And with a magician's showmanship, Umar stepped behind Bruton to undo the belt that held up his loincloth. With it removed, he was completely naked, his ten inches of purplish cock revealed in pounding blood and networks of vein. Clea blushed, looking from it to her mother's beautiful body in its slinky wrappings. They were both so arousing. She laid on the floor hesitantly, not sure she should give in to these swirling feelings.

Umar knelt down beside her. Her voice was whimsical. "We're going to have such a good time, darling—there's so much we can learn from each other. I'll teach you how to rule an empire, and you can teach me how to suck cock. But first... Bruton, we have some preparations to make."

Quickly, Umar and the huge thug cleared a space on the floor around Strange. They then laid out a complex series of straight lines and curves, writing in strange inks words in an alphabet Clea had never learned. It took a little time, but all in that room knew that such things couldn't be rushed. Then she moved everyone into the open spot in the middle of the spell, making sure that none were outside its protections and all were in their proper places.

Finally: Umar's voice hissed and popped like hot grease on a wet skillet as she choked out words that none but her knew and made gestures even Strange didn't know the full meaning of. It didn't take long. Soon, she stopped, satisfaction evident on her face.

Now she smiled, and almost Clea could see some warmth, some kindness within her mother.

But that didn't last. A sardonic, sneering face she turned on Strange and Clea, with no hope of remorse. She had turned deathly serious. "Show me, Clea. Show me how to use your mouth on his cock."

It was then that Strange made his move.

It was child's play for the Sorcerer Supreme to slip his astral form free of his body, but then there was the matter of what to do with it. Umar _had _exhausted all his power. What she had not done was gotten rid of it. Energy can be neither created nor destroyed, merely transferred, and Strange's energy still remained in the puddle of jism he had left on the floor. Rapidly, he sent his astral form into the lingering power. It was unconventional, and there wasn't much remaining now that Umar and Clea had both been cleaned, but there was enough for a simple possession spell.

Umar's taste in men was her downfall. Whatever Bruton's physical strength, he didn't have half a wit to challenge Umar's precious superiority, and Strange was easily able to overwhelm his mind, taking the giant's body for his own. When Clea looked up into Bruton's eyes, she now saw a look that only her beloved could give her. What's more, he winked at her! Out of the corner of her eye, Clea could see Strange's physical body, apparently slumped over in shock. Only she realized the truth…

She couldn't allow Umar to find out! "Most men like you to lick it first…" Clea said leadingly, as she moved in to lap at the head of Strange's stolen cock.

Umar avidly watched her daughter lick Bruton like an ice cream cone, her tongue covering every inch of his engorged organ. She found the sight… stimulating. Soon, she knelt down beside Clea, leaning in to lick the opposite side of the massive cock. They worked their slurping way down to the root of the towering phallus, then back up to its crown, sharing a kiss at the top. Then, back down again, though Umar and Clea did spiral around it to share tongue-twirling kisses again. And again.

Umar did so love mother-daughter bonding.

Through borrowed eyes, Strange watched mother and daughter relieve his hotly aching cock with their cool, sweet tongues, that seemed to grow more electric with each lick. Umar was so youthful, even in comparison to her daughter, that it was like having a set of twins devouring him.

"MMmm… so much to learn," Umar mused, undressing now. "But I tire of giving this wretched brute pleasure. Time for him to pleasure me."

With but a thought, a slap of magical power dashed Bruton to the ground. Dazed, Strange nearly lost control of the giant, but he found himself again as Clea knelt over him, licking at his balls. Umar, naked now, crouched over his face backward, so she could watch her young daughter suck cock. Strange was equally enthralled by the sight of Umar's wet sex filling his vision. He extended his tongue…

"Oooooh!" Umar gasped, pleased. It'd been an eternity since she'd felt anything like the heated massage her labia was receiving. "My, my, Bruton, you've gotten better at this!"

Clea looked up at that, shocked to find her mother riding Strange's face. She was more shocked to find herself excited, and happy for Umar. She loved the joy and excitement she saw in Umar's eyes, despite all her mother had done to her. Determined to make the most of a bad situation, she opened her mouth wide to slip over the powerfully drumming head of Strange's cock.

Umar's thoughts were running much in the same direction of her daughter. Clea looked overjoyed to be sucking Bruton off. It doubled her own pleasure, seeing the girl so adroitly running her lips over a manhood. Perhaps she'd gift Bruton to the child when they were done. Then again, with Bruton's new skill at cunnilingus, perhaps not.

Distantly, Clea felt Bruton's hand subtly pulling at her hair. He was trying to tell her something! It must be the blowjob—she had to stop before he came!

"Mother, may I have his cock inside me?" Clea asked, a little breathless, but very respectful.

Umar smiled at how polite her prodigal child had become with a little discipline. "Of course, dear. OH! But then you simply must try this one's tongue!"

Clea gave Strange's cock one last kiss, then rose above its straining length. She eyed it dubiously. For all his power, and all the pleasure he brought her, Strange's mortal body possessed an ordinary six-inch cock. She was not so sure she could take a well-hung demon anywhere near as easily!

"Here, I'll hold it for you," Umar offered, leaning in to grip Strange's pulsating shaft and aiming it up at Clea.

The girl could delay no longer. She lowered herself onto Bruton's huge cock and hoped she was wet enough to take it.

At the first touch of her cunt to his straining cockhead, something - some part of the spell Umar was crafting, maybe - happened. A swirling burst of colors and sound overwhelmed Strange momentarily, and Bruton's hands fastened to her hips. Despite Strange's efforts to regain control, Bruton kept his tenuous grasp of freedom, and with his hold on her, Bruton shoved into her slot. She cried out. He pushed again — the first had pushed in three of his inches and there was much more to go.

Umar watched with a certain pride. "Isn't that just divine, daughter?"

"Oh yes! Yes! _Yes!_" Clea screamed again and again, but in jerks and thrusts and drops of sweat, Strange got all of his gargantuan cock slammed home into the petite woman.

She looked... down. It was all in her. ALL of it, and it felt so, so yummy, so divine. But the behemoth beneath wouldn't allow her to just _sit_. He grunted past Umar's drenching cunt, restlessly shifted his hips.

_Let's get with the fucking_, he seemed to say.

She chewed her lip nervously. She wasn't sure about this. This monster cock felt terrific, like nothing she'd ever felt before, but what would happen... when it was stroking in... and out? She couldn't keep from closing her eyes and... moving. Just a little up. _Ooooh!_ Just a little higher? _Aahh!_ Up a bit more. _Hiss!_

Pretty soon she was doing vigorous squats over this lovely, delicious, wonderfully filling prick. Fast, powerful squats, with a roll of her hips at the bottom. Constant _Oohhs, Aaahhs, _hisses and moans filled the air of Strange's Sanctorum as Umar and Strange watched her lithe, snow-haired body go to a whole new place in the universe of pleasure.

Strange felt a huge difference between the tightness of her white-haired cunt and the lazy warmth of her laving mouth. Not wanting to leave Umar out, he beat her cunt with Bruton's long, narrow tongue, darting the tip all the way to her puckered asshole before going back up to her quivering clit. He felt her body catch fire between the feel of his mouth and the sight of Clea's young body bouncing atop her slave's pole. The look of uninhibited lust in her daughter's eyes thrilled her beyond all compare.

"Fuck him, Clea! Fuck him until you come! That's what he's there for!" Umar cried.

"Mother, I'm… he's so BIG!"

But Umar's maternal feelings had already taken a backseat to her pleasure. "Yes, Bruton, lick it! Lick my cunt! Eat me up!" She felt Clea's eyes on her and her excitement doubled.

Strange didn't need his excitement doubled. He was going out of his mind, feeling Clea riding his cock like a roller coaster as Umar ground her wet pussy onto his tongue. As a rich medical student, a playboy surgeon, and even as a superhero, he'd had many erotic experiences in his life, but nothing compared to this combination of mother and daughter.

"Ride his cock, daughter!" Umar squealed, though she was only interested in Clea to the extent of how long it would be until Bruton's cock was available to her, along with the rest of this primitive world. "Fuck him for all you're worth! Oh, Clea, if only I'd known what a slut you were—" Umar paused to scream out as her clit was mauled by Strange's tongue. "I'd have put you in charge of the harem where you belong!"

"It feels so _good," _Clea moaned, barely hearing Umar's words as she rode Strange's borrowed cock. But she wasn't so far gone that she could take her eyes away from Umar's naked writhing against Strange's face. She thought it was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. "I'm so… so… close!"

Strange arched his hips up just as Clea came down, the impact of her ass against his driving thighs so hard that it sent a loud _slap _through the room.

"Yes!" Clea shrieked.

Umar watched her come—back arching, body shuddering, the throes of orgasm seeming to pump her juices out of her cunt. She borrowed an Earth aphorism—"Oh fuck yes!"—as she followed suit, her cunt exploding in a fine spray of pleasure over Strange's face.

Abruptly Strange rose. Clea fell from his suddenly vertical loins as Umar found herself perched precariously on his shoulders. Like a supplicant visited by their god, Clea scrambled onto her knees before him as he presented his wet, shimmering cock for her inspection.

She grasped the base tightly, not wanting a single drop to escape her, and that one touch was what it took. His cum sprayed her breasts and face, making her cry out when it hit her as if she were being scalded. Moaning, she used her hands to spread the semen to her neck and stomach.

All the while, Umar was watching. She was not surprised when Bruton deposited her on the floor and straddled her middle. In fact, she smiled as he grabbed her pillowy breasts, sandwiching his hefty cock in her deep cleavage. His hips made their lewd dance, stroking his prick in her hot breasts. It was so long that it bumped her chin with each thrust.

With a husky roar, Strange sent jets of his thick, hot semen to crash onto Umar, finding her red lips stretched wide apart to receive them. He came in lengthy stripes, stepping back with his cock in hand to send slashes of cum across her body. By the end, she was practically covered. She whimpered in delight at the strong taste, and luxuriated in the feel of her daughter lying beside her, similarly marked as if they'd both been sorted into one grand category.

"Oh, Clea," Umar moaned dreamily. "I have so much to teach you. If you think Bruton is good, you should try some of my dragons…"

Clea shook her head. "I can't, mother. I'm sorry. You have to go now," she said slowly, with a sated smile on her lovely face.

"What? Don't be ridiculous—we'll rule this plane together. It and so many more; the whole multiverse!"

"No, mother. It's time for you to go," Clea reiterated. Her voice was firm now, and her eyes sharpened.

Umar looked down at her body. The pattern Bruton's come had formed on her was not random. It was a banishment sigil.

"Ungrateful child-!" Umar began, but it was too late. The magic Clea had somehow conjured, the magic that allowed her to walk the Earth, was already being dispelled.

"Goodbye, mother," Clea said, long after she was gone. "It was nice seeing you."

* * *

In the heights of the Dark Dimension, above rivers of blood and forests of bone, Umar sat on a throne of hatred. Her scheme had failed. Her revenge had been foiled. The Earth remained outside her grasp, still protected by the pitiful Dr. Strange.

But on the bright side, it was the best weekend she'd had in ages.


End file.
